


Longing

by hannapalooza



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: First Time, Fluff, Hand Job, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 13:11:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannapalooza/pseuds/hannapalooza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I meant to write angst but it turned into porn</p>
            </blockquote>





	Longing

This is the time of night he likes the best. When the whisky has done its job, soothing brain and brawn, and he feels comfortable in his skin, relaxed and though he’d never admit it, happy. The pub is quiet, the team vanished to their bed, just Gene and his faithful deputy left. And Sam, well he always looks gorgeous, but Gene is almost positive he starts to glow after a few beers, his eyes widening with a slightly unfocused haze as he stares across at Gene. And they babble crap at each other, swirling the whisky in their glasses, Gene’s cigarettes smoking untouched and forgotten in the ashtray as this infuriating, honest, captivating man reels him in once again.

 

“One for the road Guv?” and he just smiles as Sam steps to the bar before Gene replies. It’s become unspoken tradition that the last one of the night is always Nelson’s finest, the eighteen year-old Glenlivet that he keeps stashed on the top shelf. There’s a greasy thumbprint on the side of the glass, and Gene deliberately drinks from the other side, wanting to preserve that small, perfect bit of Sam. They savour the last shot; Sam lapses into silence and Gene closes his eyes briefly, breathing steadily, luxuriating in the peace. When he opens them again, Sam is leaning his head against the wall, looking across the table, eyes lidded and lazy.

 

“Alright?”

 

“Almost perfect Sammy boy.”

 

“S’nice to see you happy Gene.”

 

“Soppy git”

 

“Yeah I know.” Sam grins at Gene then, that special, rarely seen childlike smile that tells Gene, at least in this moment, his Sam is happy. The whisky is finished, oily traces of alcohol clinging to the glass and Gene reluctantly gets to his feet, gathering up his cigarettes and lighter.

 

“Come on Sammy, I’ll walk ya home, sober up a bit before I face the missus” the excuse is always the same, the offer never refused. Pitching a wave to Nelson they head out into the night. Sam stops at the door

 

“Hang on Guv, I need a piss be right back.” Gene leans against the wall in the alley and lights a cigarette, content to wait.

 

 

Sam appears at the door; face obscured by the light behind him, and in that semi-psychic way of his seems to know what Gene wants. He turns sideways and tilts his head to the sky, the light from the pub streaming past him, illuminating the slender length of his neck. Gene stares shamelessly, knowing Sam can’t see where he’s looking.

 

Gene’s discontent is growing, building as the evening draws to a close. It’s always this way, always will be, these moments he has with Sam are never enough for him, but even the thought of anything more is too dangerous for him to contemplate. So he makes do, like a starving man fed on scraps. A sliver of pale shoulder counterpoint to a dark shirt, collar askew after a chase. A glimpse of taut stomach when Sam answers the door in a ratty vest, stretching aching muscles from another night on that godforsaken bed. A sideways glance and sly smile from the sofa in Gene’s office as he reads something and makes a breakthrough. All those images, a mental scrapbook of fragments and shards, because the one time Gene did see him naked, he looked so angry, so vulnerable, so weak he had to bury it. His Sam is strong and proud, fierce and loyal, not chained helpless to a rickety bed.

 

 

“S’ a lovely night, fancy walking the long way home guv?”

 

“Oh does the nancy need an escort home? A big strong man to protect you from all the nasty men out to take away your dignity?” Gene hauls himself away from the wall, and jokingly proffers his arm.

 

“M, not a nancy.” Sam mutters, then steps up and with a grin smoothly slides his arm through Gene’s. His eyes are drawn irresistibly downwards to that simple joining of their bodies, the strong slim line of elbow to wrist held taut, motionless and the thought of friction, skin on skin, slow heat makes Gene catch his breath. Sam tugs to get Gene moving and his arm shifts, slips across the tempting flesh of Sam’s elbow, falling in fluid motion. Sam flinches and twists, Gene’s fingers gliding across his palm before he is caught. Gene is stepping up before he hears the soft gasp that echoes his own, Sam turning, his grip on Gene’s hand becoming fierce.

 

And there is still time to step back, to step away from the precipice of a painful future, but Sam tilts his head backwards to look up at Gene, his gaze fixed steadily and moves into him with a sudden sinuous grace. Gene doesn’t know who moved first but he’s kissing Sam and he wants it to be slow, wants to taste and savour, remember every second because this has to be it, this cannot be, they are an impossibility. Sam is insistent, teeth and tongue nipping at his lips demanding entry, body pressed full against Gene’s his hips grinding shamelessly against his thigh a hand fisted in the hair at the nape of his neck, the other groping, feverishly tugging on Gene’s shirt, desperate to touch. And it’s too much and not enough, dizzying in its intensity and with a growl Gene surges forward, opening his mouth and grabbing Sam around his waist, pulling him even closer, wanting to feel every inch of their bodies together, pressing his erection into the flat plane of Sam’s stomach.

 

Gene swiftly propels Sam backwards pushing him gently against the nearest wall, bodies moulded together Sam’s tongue licking swiftly across Gene’s teeth before delving into his mouth, Gene’s fingers underneath his shirt stroking damp flesh, drawing out desirous moans and hitching breath with every inch of skin explored. Sam’s hands circle Gene’s waist, insinuating themselves between their bodies to rub and grasp at Gene’s erection. Gene’s head drops to Sam’s shoulder, his groans muffled against skin as he tastes the long line of Sam’s throat, and feels Sam’s pulse jump into his mouth as he tugs at Gene’s flies with clumsy fingers. And then Sam’s hand is on his cock, smaller than Gene’s, smooth and delicate like a girl’s, gripping and sliding with insistent pressure, forcing the breath from Gene’s lungs in a gasp of his name. And Sam smiles at that, eyes lighting wickedly as he strokes faster, leaning against the brickwork and drinking Gene in as he comes apart with frightening speed, need and desperation uttered in every twitch and groan. Gene wants to close his eyes, the sight of Sam standing contained and composed, everything in him focussed on Gene’s pleasure, his obscenely tented trousers highlighting his neglected erection, his only movements eyes and hands is too perfect, and Gene reaches for him, grabbing a greedy handful, rubbing his hand down the hard heat at Sam’s crotch.

 

“Fuck, Gene” Sam rasps, swallowing hard, his head slamming backwards into the wall, eyes fluttering closed his composure suddenly shattered. His hand stutters on Gene’s cock, loses rhythm, moving erratically as Gene strokes heavily across the bulging denim. His other hand shoots out to encircle Gene’s wrist and pull him away, forcing Gene’s arm back to his side, his eyes opening to a slit as he groans “Later.” And the hidden promise of that simple word, whispered through wet, parted lips, undoes Gene utterly, his eyes closing under a sudden onslaught of sensation as Sam caresses his cock with firm precision, his teeth nipping a path across his collarbone, and Gene feels hope and lust and desire ignite in his belly and force their way out of him in a guttural moan, as he comes hard into Sam’s fist.

 

He is suspended in blissful nothing, vision white, force of will alone keeping him on his feet, reality gradually seeping into his awareness as the roughness of Sam’s hair against his cheek, the thundering of his labouring heart in his ears. Gene’s hand comes up, cradling Sam’s head against him, easing him backwards and staring down at him in lazy amazement before leaning in for a searing kiss, unable to resist the unashamed and undiminished hunger he sees in Sam’s shadowed eyes. Gene tilts his head to the sky and breathes deep.

 

“It’s a crappy night Gladys, shall we take the car?”

**Author's Note:**

> First posted to hans_fics on LJ - 03.10.2008
> 
> Comments and concrit always welcome


End file.
